


The Gravity Between Us

by dubfu



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, The M rating is for the slightest part of one scene., high school years, idiots to idiots who kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22684339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubfu/pseuds/dubfu
Summary: Jeongyeon and Nayeon don't get along in the most conventional way, and yet they continuously find themselves in one another's orbit.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Yoo Jeongyeon, Implied Pining Saida, Minimal Mimo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 315





	The Gravity Between Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slicki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slicki/gifts).



> This is a side story/prequel of my Saida fic, "And I Knew That You Meant It," hence the pacing. However, you do not need to read it to enjoy this. There IS a scene that directly crosses over with the Saida fic, but it's at the end as a type of vague fun callback for those who remember, maybe.

She didn’t volunteer to give the new girl a tour of the school, and yet that’s exactly the type of situation Jeongyeon found herself in when the teacher had shoved her out of the classroom with an allotted time for showing a newbie the essential sections of the building.  
  
“It certainly is,” the girl stopped, and Jeongyeon almost walked into her, “something.”  
  
Jeongyeon snorted. “You sure sound enthusiastic.”  
  
There was something bizarre about a girl transferring to a new school only one month into the academic year, especially when that girl was supposedly the daughter of a rich family that had just finished building a house with almost an acre of land to themselves. Jeongyeon would’ve thought that a girl like that – a girl like Im Nayeon, to be specific – would simply get helicopter rides and private jets to the roof of some fancy elite school that could somehow afford a helipad or landing strip on its premises.  
  
“Obviously.” Nayeon released an exhale that seemed just below the definition of a huff, some controlled attempt at hiding whatever discontent she had. But her sarcasm persisted as she turned to face Jeongyeon head on. “I’m so enthusiastic about leaving my friends behind and attending a public school.”  
  
There it was, the mark of capitalist scum. “What’s wrong with public school?”  
  
Nayeon hesitated, her eyes like a deer caught in headlights. Jeongyeon respected the fact that her eye contact didn’t waver, though there was something simultaneously nerve wrecking about watching a haughty girl desperately look for the right combination of words to follow up with within Jeongyeon’s eyes.  
  
“Hello?” Jeongyeon asked, cracking an amused smirk as she waved a hand in front of Nayeon’s face, who blinked a couple of times before looking away. “Listen, I get it. No one likes transferring to a new school. But you may want to eat that chip off your shoulder.”  
  
It was evident that Nayeon had to swallow whatever she wanted to say in favor of, “There’s nothing wrong with public school. But the stakes are different here.”  
  
“Stakes?” Jeongyeon tried not to laugh. “We’re first-years in a regular high school. There’s nothing dramatic about it. I doubt there’s really much difference between here and wherever you crawled out of.”  
  
“Oh?” Nayeon hummed, looking around the hall for a moment. “But I haven’t seen any Segways yet.”  
  
Jeongyeon gawked. “You had _Segways_ at school?”  
  
Nayeon snorted. “No, I’m fucking with you.” She took a step closer, flicking Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “Let me get that chip off for you.”  
  
“Oh, screw you. I’ll show you where the infirmary is and then we’ll be done with this.”  
  
“Great!” Nayeon exaggeratedly lifted her shoulders in high-pitched excitement, turning on her heel. “The sooner I’m away from you, the better.”  
  
“Likewise.” Jeongyeon, very loudly, sniffed at the air. “I’m sick of the pungent scent of gold bars and dollar bills stained with the sweat of child labor.”  
  
Jeongyeon could tell that Nayeon’s groan was a lot quieter than she likely wanted it to be, probably to respect surrounding classrooms, but Jeongyeon simply grinned, pleased and satisfied with the sound.  
  


* * *

  
Nayeon had considered herself pretty lucky for a while. She hadn’t run into Jeongyeon at all for a few months, to the point where she had simply become a vague blip of a best-forgotten memory. Until auditions started.  
  
“Well, well,” somehow that voice hadn’t escaped the recesses of her brain, “look what the 1% flew in.”  
  
“Great.” Nayeon didn’t bother looking up from the lyrics she was reading over, waiting on a chair backstage. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”  
  
A can of paint landed at her feet. “I’m here, giving back to my community, unlike some people.”  
  
“Do you think I bathe in coins, is that it?” She shot Jeongyeon a glare from the corner of her eyes. “Are you that ignorant?”  
  
“Oh?” Jeongyeon smirked, squatting and giving the can a good shake before opening it. “Is that not something you do?” Before Nayeon could answer, she added, “Then again, I suppose it _is_ dirty money.”  
  
Nayeon didn’t say anything, merely prayed that her glare was piercing Jeongyeon in a way that would shut her up. She really could just get up and go, leaving Jeongyeon to her paint can, but something about that felt like a loss against this annoying demon she’d somehow been unlucky enough to summon upon arriving at the school. She didn’t have to defend herself or her character to someone who clearly didn’t deserve her time.  
  
Instead, she crossed her legs. “What are you doing with that?”  
  
“I’m part of the crew for the musical,” Jeongyeon said. “Helping with the backgrounds and props. My sister told me to get involved, and I thought I’d prefer this over a sport or club. So here I am, prepping some paint for some fake flags.” She shrugged and looked up at Nayeon. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Nayeon blinked, holding up her sheets. “Is it not obvious?”  
  
Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You just casually come backstage to read?”  
  
“I feel like you get a sick kick out of being obtuse.” Nayeon deadpanned. “I just finished auditioning. But I’m checking to make sure I got all the lyrics right.” She glanced back down at the paper. “Sometimes I feel like I just black out. So then, once it’s over, I get paranoid that I sang something completely different.”  
  
“Oh, so you’re done?” Jeongyeon stood back up, bringing the pant along with her. “That’s neat. I hope you get what you want.” A pause passed. “Which part were you auditioning for?”  
  
Nayeon couldn’t help but crack a small, bashful smile. “It would mean a lot to me if I got to play Cosette. But I’m just a first-year, so I doubt that I’ll get it. Upperclassmen always get prioritized.”  
  
“Complaining about _the system_ , are we?”  
  
“Shut up,” Nayeon grumbled, returning to her paper. In her peripheral, she could see Jeongyeon walking away just after stretching a satisfied smile, paint can in hand. “Pest.”  
  
A small part of her wondered if it would secretly be a blessing to not get a single role, simply for the fact that it would mean avoiding Jeongyeon on a frequent basis – a sense of peace she had come to terms with until now. But, if Nayeon was honest with herself, she could deal with someone as annoying as Jeongyeon if it meant getting the part.  
  
Contrary to Jeongyeon’s opinion of her, Nayeon had every intention of working hard.  
  


* * *

  
It was only coincidence that Jeongyeon happened to be standing by the audition results one day, and also further coincidence when her eyes just happened to pass over Nayeon’s role. She knew that she had missed Nayeon’s audition and thus had no real understanding of her range, but Jeongyeon still found herself surprised at seeing _Understudy (Fantine), Ensemble_ beneath Nayeon’s name.  
  
Another coincidence came in the form of accidentally entering the proximity of Nayeon backstage between scenes during a rehearsal. She stood there by a mirror, eyes scanning a script in her hand before looking into her own reflection to practice different expressions. Jeongyeon couldn’t quite hear her, given that there was an active scene being rehearsed on the stage whose noise traveled into the backstage area, but she raised her eyebrows in, again, what may arguably be considered _pleasant_ surprise.  
  
Nayeon’s gaze suddenly found hers through the mirror, and it took everything within Jeongyeon to not look away when she noticed how watery her eyes were. They stared at one another for a moment – an intensity in Nayeon’s wet eyes that Jeongyeon met by sticking a tongue out – before Nayeon shook her head, rolling her eyes lazily before returning to her script. A slight shake of her shoulders made Jeongyeon wonder if she had let out a laugh, but she couldn’t be sure, and she felt herself being called away by another member of the stage crew.  
  
“Sorry to hear that you didn’t get Cosette,” Jeongyeon said one day when everyone was taking a break during rehearsals. Nayeon seemed surprised when Jeongyeon had (coincidentally) taken a seat beside her in one of the audience seats.  
  
Nayeon stifled a laugh. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”  
  
Jeongyeon shrugged. “A month seems _fashionably_ late to me.”  
  
“Nothing fashionable about wearing nothing but ripped jeans, t-shirts, and leather jackets.”  
  
“Not all of us can afford Louis Vuitton, you know.” She smirked at the sound of Nayeon’s snort. “But I saw that you’re actually an understudy for Fantine.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Nayeon with a sigh. “I told you that upperclassmen got prioritized.”  
  
Jeongyeon paused, looking back to the stage where some students were dancing for fun. “You’re an understudy for a major role, though, aren’t you? Isn’t that a compliment?”  
  
Nayeon clicked her tongue. “Fantine _is_ a great role, so I’m not saying that I’m ungrateful to be an understudy for a huge part, but the chances of me actually getting to play her…” She shook her head. “This isn’t like professional theatre. We get one or two weekends – that’s it – so there’s almost zero chance. And, obviously, I’m not going to wish anything bad upon the girl who is actually performing the part.”  
  
“Well, I hope you’re practicing hard anyway.” Jeongyeon hummed. “Fantine is a peasant, by the way. Have you been doing method acting as a part of your practicing regimen?” She turned her head to look at Nayeon, satisfied to see the beginning of a grimace. “You know, like taking the bus like us common folk do? Buying school lunch? Only getting to eat one or two meals per day instead of three, delivered to you by house staff?”  
  
A sigh escaped Nayeon’s lips, preceding a mumble. “We only have _one_ cleaning lady and she only comes on the weekends. There aren’t any butlers or maids.” She refused to make eye contact.  
  
Jeongyeon couldn’t help but start cackling, laughing harder when Nayeon roughly shoved her shoulder.  
  
But it wasn’t a coincidence for Jeongyeon to be where she was on the night of the school’s fourth performance. She was right where she was meant to be, readied at the sides, when a spotlight lit Nayeon’s form and the glistening shine of the tears that streaked her face as her mouth formed syllables and notes that Jeongyeon hadn’t expected to come out.  
  
She knew that Nayeon had to have been good enough to get the part of an understudy, but she was _better_ than just that, and Jeongyeon felt her brow furrow in awe as she watched Nayeon figuratively break within the scene, cast in the light of a dream she was meant to be born in – one she deserved every performance. She remembered the watery-eyed girl in the mirror, the intensity that had come with it, and Jeongyeon could feel a pin drop to the bottom of her ribcage as Nayeon let her last note fade into the final notes of the song, the lights dimming until the stage blackened. It was so moving, and yet Jeongyeon was frozen. Was it already over?  
  
The roar of applause seemed to wake her up from her stupor and, just as she made her way out into the dark with props in hand, she could have sworn that she saw Nayeon’s shadow, that she saw the white of a wet smile before disappearing to the back again.  
  
“You did good,” she had managed to say once she had returned to the backstage area, not bothering to move past the rest of the ensemble girls who were giving Nayeon plenty of attention.  
  
But Nayeon noticed, eyes meeting Jeongyeon’s in crescents that felt alien, felt beautiful even. And, with lips that trembled with joy, she mouthed a “Thank you.”  
  
Jeongyeon gulped, nodding and turning away before she could dare to try and say anything else.  
  


* * *

  
The wrap party wasn’t one that was funded or supervised by the music department. Instead, one of the lead seniors was kind enough to host at her house during a weekend when her parents were away. That’s how they managed to get alcohol involved.  
  
Nayeon felt that she had earned a couple of beers by the time she noticed, with mild shock, that Jeongyeon had arrived. The stage crew had been invited, but she hadn’t expected her to come. It wasn’t as though she personally knew Jeongyeon or anything, but something had told her that Jeongyeon wasn’t exactly the type to attend house parties.  
  
Somewhere along the line of thinking about Jeongyeon, Nayeon had managed to find herself directly behind her. “Hey,” she said, poking at her shoulder.  
  
Jeongyeon turned, seeming surprised. “Oh, hey. Blessing a lowly commoner such as I with your presence, your highness?”  
  
“You’re so mean,” Nayeon whined, causing Jeongyeon to laugh. “What’s so funny?”  
  
“How are you drunk already? I’m only an hour late to this thing.”  
  
“Should’ve been here earlier then,” Nayeon mumbled with a scoff. “There are drinks. What did you expect me to do?”  
  
Jeongyeon smirked. “They do say rich girls are wild. The privilege of being able to get a slap on the wrist since you can pay off anything, right?”  
  
“I don’t even know why I walked over here.” Nayeon groaned. “You’re always such an asshole.”  
  
“That’s not true. I complimented you when you got to perform, remember? It balances out.”  
  
“Yeah.” The memory of that whole night made Nayeon smile. “I’m so happy that I had a chance. Sucks that she got sick, though. ”  
  
“I won’t lie to you, Nayeon.” Jeongyeon shrugged, leaning in so that she could whisper. Nayeon could feel the warmth of her breath tickle her ear. “I honestly think you’re better than the one who got the role.”  
  
“Oh.” Nayeon blushed as Jeongyeon pulled away. “Thanks. You probably got to see more of her performance than I did since I was in the ensemble every night, so I’ll trust your judgment.” Then she smirked, inhibitions low. “Or maybe you just have favoritism toward me, Yoo.”  
  
She blinked when Jeongyeon gingerly took the beer out of her other hand. “Now that’s how I know you’ve had more than enough.”  
  
“Hey!” Nayeon huffed as she followed Jeongyeon through the room, weaving through stinky and sweaty and overly perfumed teenagers until they reached the back door of the house. The cool air hit her as soon as Jeongyeon opened the door, gesturing for her to walk out onto the deck. There were one or two people sitting around a table, but Jeongyeon led them over to sit at the bottom of the deck’s stairs, and Nayeon had almost forgotten about the thievery by the time her rump placed itself on the second-to-last step.  
  
“Feel a little refreshed?” Jeongyeon asked, taking a sip from the nearly finished bottle.  
  
Nayeon narrowed her eyes, mouth faster than her brain. “You just stole my first kiss, Yoo.”  
  
It made her laugh when Jeongyeon suddenly choked. “Wh-What?”  
  
“Indirect kiss.” Nayeon lazily tapped a finger against her bottom lip before using it to point at the beer.  
  
“Jeez, do you really believe in that?” Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow, taking another sip for good measure. In the vague amount of light that reached them from the light on the back door, her cheeks appeared dusted by pink. “We’re not in middle school anymore.”  
  
Nayeon rolled her eyes. “That was literally last year.”  
  
“And?” Jeongyeon chuckled. “New year, new me.”  
  
“Sure, I bet you’re a completely different person.” Nayeon looked up, staring at the white freckles of the night sky. The stars were beautiful. A soft breeze sang through her calves until she pushed her knees together and held them tightly.  
  
She blinked in surprise when Jeongyeon’s jacket suddenly covered her knees.  
  
“You seem cold,” was all Jeongyeon said, and Nayeon barely mumbled out an expression of gratitude before they both found themselves staring up at the great, dark expanse. Their shoulders touched, their sides leaning against one another as they appreciated the speckled sky together, but neither of them acknowledged it – at least, not out loud.  
  
They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence. The thrum of the party vibrated and permeated through the walls and windows, but the stillness of the air remained undisturbed, and the katydids continued on to fill the void. But Nayeon didn’t mind. Maybe it was because of the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but she felt more _present_ than usual, well-aware of the way her cotton sleeve bunched up against the hem of Jeongyeon’s, and it wasn’t boring. She often preferred being in motion to some capacity – whether it be moving her legs or running her mouth – but this was a pocketed moment, a pocket in something she couldn’t put a finger on, let alone hook a finger into.  
  
Finally, Jeongyeon spoke up again. “So, you’re telling me that _you’ve_ never been kissed before?”  
  
“Nope.” There was no shame or embarrassment in her voice. Nayeon figured she had better priorities.  
  
“Me neither,” said Jeongyeon. And Nayeon simply nodded in acknowledgement, neither of them turning their gazes away from the universe. “Guess money can’t buy you everything, huh?”  
  
Nayeon snorted, merely nudging Jeongyeon roughly with her shoulder, and Jeongyeon chuckled in return.  
  
But they didn’t pull apart, not until someone called them inside for a group photo.  
  


* * *

  
“Your annoyed look is at a nine right now, by the way.” Momo sighed. “The least you could do is turn it down to a five.”  
  
“What’s there to be annoyed about?” Jeongyeon grumbled, offering the cafeteria woman a polite smile as she paid for both Momo’s food and her own.  
  
Momo snickered. “If I knew, I would’ve knocked some sense into you by now.”  
  
Jeongyeon rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.” Still, she made a better effort at not contorting her face.  
  
They walked back to their table where Nayeon and Sana awaited them on opposite sides, boxed lunches open and already a quarter of the way empty. Jeongyeon slid beside Sana, while Momo found herself next to Nayeon, and Jeongyeon could feel the eyeroll beginning to turn at the sight of Nayeon looking extra giddy.  
  
“Alright, they’ve sat down.” Sana chuckled, leaning her head on Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “What’s the news?”  
  
“Well,” Nayeon was already fighting the urge to giggle and it was making Jeongyeon want to gag, “I already caved and told Jeongyeon earlier in class, sorry. But—”  
  
“We get it, you’re best friends.” Momo smirked, laughing when Jeongyeon groaned.  
  
“No.” Nayeon scoffed. “She was just, you know, there. And you two weren’t, so.”  
  
Sana hummed, and Jeongyeon could feel her trying not to laugh.  
  
Second-year had started out pretty average from Jeongyeon’s perspective. After the musical of the previous year, she had the misfortune of having to share classes with Nayeon for once, but it balanced itself out when Nayeon had somehow managed to lasso the friendship of both of the new transfers – Sana and Momo – as soon as they arrived, only a month into the year. _Déjà vu_ , Jeongyeon had thought with a smirk at the time, but at least Sana and Momo were tolerable. Hell, they were even entertaining on a good day, though Jeongyeon had come to be suspicious of the way the girls had a knack for knowing looks. And then, before she knew it, they had somehow formed a lunch table together, which very much meant having an unfortunate proximity to Nayeon even during a time that was meant for taking a break.  
  
Prior to Sana and Momo’s arrival, Jeongyeon had been pretty content sitting on her own during lunch. On occasion, she’d swing by and plop her butt down on the same bench as Nayeon when she wasn’t surrounded by student council members, but it was always to steal a fry or a strip of meat. She had even given Nayeon the good old _“It’s just trickle-down economics, Nabongs,_ ” on occasion during a walk-by theft, including the new nickname that Nayeon groaned at but never asked to stop.  
  
But then, once Sana and Momo had entered the picture and kept a permanent residence with Nayeon in the cafeteria, Jeongyeon had no other choice but to join them once the newer girls had caught a whiff of her patterns and asked her to sit with them from then on.  
  
_“Anyone but her,”_ Nayeon had grumbled at the time, and that’s what got Jeongyeon to stick around. She had always wanted to try a protest.  
  
She didn’t hate Nayeon, not really, but they had molded a very specific dynamic that she had grown accustomed to. So, when Nayeon – shaking and fighting the urge to squeal – leaned over during their morning math course and said she just needed to get some big, happy news off her chest, Jeongyeon had been a little surprised. She hadn’t expected Nayeon to get personal with her, though she couldn’t deny that it felt good, for just a fleeting moment, to feel trusted. But then Nayeon had opened her mouth, and Jeongyeon was still processing _something_ even now during lunch.  
  
“Park Jihyo asked me out.” Nayeon’s smile was so wide. Jeongyeon hated it.  
  
Most of all, she hated the way that Momo caught her eyes momentarily, the slightest scrunch between her eyebrows forcing Jeongyeon to avert her gaze almost immediately.  
  
“Oh my god!” Sana grinned, lifting her head off Jeongyeon’s shoulder. A missing anchor. “You said yes, right? You’ve been talking about her for a couple of weeks now.”  
  
Jeongyeon’s brow furrowed. Nayeon had never mentioned Park Jihyo’s name to her before. Half of her distaste over the situation was because of how random it had felt, but Sana was claiming that this had been a known topic for more than a week. She swallowed, digesting the sobering reminder that maybe Sana – even Momo, if her encouraging look was anything to go by – was someone worth telling things to, and that she wasn’t.  
  
_Is it that I’m too mean?_ Jeongyeon bit the inside of her cheek, tuning out the girls’ chatter as she continued eating the food on her tray. _But she told me that she got a girlfriend first. Then again, she also said it was just because I was there. Would she have told me if I wasn’t here?_ _Why didn’t she tell me?_  
  
A part of her wished that Nayeon would look at her even once. But she didn’t. Her eyes were only for Sana and Momo, crinkling and happy in a way that Jeongyeon did not feel a part of.  
  
Maybe Im Nayeon really did hate _her_ instead.  
  


* * *

  
Nayeon was pleasantly surprised when her parents had agreed to let her host a party for her peers. She had lied about the presence of alcohol, sure, but as a dedicated member of student council these days, it wasn’t hard to get a good lie together from the rest of the students that it would be nothing short of a diligent, family-fun event – sans the family.  
  
It wasn’t that Nayeon wanted to get blasted or go crazy. She had never even considered having a party at her house before the student council had suggested it, saying that aspiring student body presidents often hosted them to gain favor for votes. Networking, they claimed. She was already lucky enough that her girlfriend had such a good reputation among her peers despite only being a first-year.  
  
Sana, Momo, and Jihyo had shown up an hour before anyone else in order to help Nayeon relax. She considered herself to be pretty social, but the pressure of making a good impression on the student body was heavy on her shoulders. She was lucky enough to turn some heads due to her fleeting moment of a performance as a first-year, but she had to work harder if she wanted a good spot on the student council the upcoming year. Plus, she hadn’t hosted a party before – what if her parents came back to a filthy home?  
  
“It’s going to be fine,” Jihyo assured her, holding her hand as they sat on the couch together. “I don’t really drink at these things, so I can help you keep an eye for any roughhousing?”  
  
“And Momo can beat up any troublemakers.” Sana giggled when Momo shot her a look. “Or I could, I guess. Four fists are better than two, right?”  
  
Momo shot Jihyo an apologetic look. “We’re not violent people.”  
  
“I’m about to be,” Nayeon mumbled, “if Jeongyeon doesn’t show up. She’s good at distracting me.”  
  
“Did she say she’d come?” Sana asked, exchanging an indiscernible look with Momo.  
  
“Well, no. But I told her, so… she’s bound to show up, right? She’s like a cockroach coming out of the floorboards when it’s most inconvenient for me.”  
  
Jihyo chuckled. “You’re making me even more excited to meet her.”  
  
Nayeon let out a half-hearted laugh. Something about the idea of Jihyo and Jeongyeon meeting didn’t sit well in her stomach, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She didn’t want Jihyo to get annoyed – that’s what she told her whenever Jihyo had asked to meet Jeongyeon. She didn’t know why it made her so uneasy, though she couldn’t help but think that Jeongyeon’s extra-aggressive jabs in the last month were probably the root of it.  
  
It was easier to blame Jeongyeon.  
  
Momo smirked. “They mostly just fight. I wouldn’t get too excited.”  
  
“We’ve only been dating for a month and, like, a week now, right?” Jihyo smiled coyly. “We haven’t had our first fight yet. I have to prepare for what an angry Nayeon is like.”  
  
“I don’t fight with anybody!” Nayeon pouted. “Jeongyeon’s just annoying.”  
  
That sentiment remained when Jeongyeon finally arrived at the party, three hours past Nayeon’s requested time and two hours past the time for everyone else. It didn’t help that, by the time Nayeon had realized Jeongyeon had arrived, Jeongyeon had already downed a cup or two of spiked punch.  
  
Nayeon smacked Jeongyeon’s shoulder, gaining her attention by the side of the pool in the backyard. “Look who decided to show the fuck up.”  
  
“Well, you know me, Nabongs.” Jeongyeon’s smile was lopsided. “I’m always late.”  
  
“No shit, Yoo.” She leaned in, words slipping through grit teeth. There was a strange sense of embarrassment in having trusted Jeongyeon to be there, only for her to not only show up late, but not even let her know that she had arrived. “You were supposed to be here earlier to help me, and you were supposed to meet Jihyo.”  
  
Jeongyeon shrugged. “Why would she want to meet me? Why would I want to meet her?”  
  
Annoying was clearly an understatement in Nayeon’s character analysis from earlier. Aggravation was beginning to seep in instead, and Nayeon glanced toward the back door to make sure that Jihyo wasn’t anywhere near them. There were people around them in the backyard, mostly teenagers hanging around on the chairs in their jackets having a smoke or chatting with drinks, but no one that Nayeon particularly cared for. No one who would care to listen to them.  
  
She hoped that Jeongyeon was drunker than she looked, that she was just too inebriated to connect what should’ve been obvious dots. “I wanted my friends to meet her, why else?”  
  
The snort was shocking. “We’re friends?” Waves of aftershocks. “Since when are we friends?”  
  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Nayeon took a step back, glancing again toward the doorway before returning her glare to Jeongyeon.  
  
“You didn’t tell me about Jihyo. Wouldn’t a _friend_ have told me?”  
  
“What?” Something felt off. “You were the first one I told when she asked me out, Yoo.”  
  
Jeongyeon narrowed her eyes, the index finger around her cup straightening in accusation. “Then why did Sana and Momo know about her for weeks?”  
  
Something caught in Nayeon’s throat, freezing her as her eyes wildly searched Jeongyeon’s. They were steely and unfamiliar, the eyes of a girl with an actual problem rather than the eyes of the girl who had always, in Nayeon’s mind, simply pretended to have one. _What, is she just jealous that I didn’t tell her earlier?_ Nayeon felt her nails digging into the skin of her palm. _I did end up telling her. I even told her the important news before the other two, so why doesn’t that matter?!_  
  
“It’s been how long? And you haven’t even tried to introduce us until now,” Jeongyeon added with a scoff once it was clear that Nayeon had nothing that was willing to come out.  
  
That had been the snag. Nayeon truly didn’t know why, merely justified herself with the idea that it was for Jihyo’s sake somehow. But it was an excuse. An excuse for something imperceptible, something that bubbled in the pit of Nayeon’s stomach when she remembered how Jeongyeon looked when she had gone to her with news, news that she thought would be happy and joyous. But Jeongyeon seemed to be anything but, and she had gone back to her quips and insults. Quips and insults that Nayeon had presumed were purely friendly banter, but now she wasn’t so sure.  
  
Frankly, it pissed her off.  
  
“You don’t exactly make it easy.” Her voice was low, and she shoved Jeongyeon back by the shoulder. Felt a sick sense of bitter satisfaction when Jeongyeon seemed shocked by the action, eyes wide for a brief moment as she balanced her tipsy footing. “You insult me every goddamned day, constantly needing to remind me of the privilege I have when you don’t know a damned thing about me, and—”  
  
“Whose fault is that?!”  
  
“Oh, it’s mine?” Nayeon scoffed, mouth half-opened in offended amusement. “Sorry that I don’t want to open up all the time to the girl who’s done nothing but judge me since day one. Makes it really fucking easy to want to tell you anything, lest you somehow link it to that wealth I apparently shove in your face every day by breathing.” She stopped paying attention to the door. “And after the musical last year, I really thought that it was just friendly banter – that this was ‘our thing’ that we do. I could handle all the presumptions about me, because I thought we _were_ friends and that you were just – I don’t know – busting my chops. But you suddenly asking, ‘since when’ makes me think that maybe it wasn’t the case, and that you really do believe everything you say about me.” She moved forward, preparing to give another shove. “Maybe you really are just a fucking asshole, Yoo Jeongyeon.”  
  
She didn’t realize that she hadn’t taken a breath until a hand gently pulled at her shoulder, keeping her from taking that final step in pushing Jeongyeon one last time. She looked over her shoulder, the muscles in her face relaxing the instant that she saw Sana’s expression, unreadable. Sana shook her head no more than twice.  
  
“I’m stopping you before you make a real commotion,” Sana whispered, her mouth by Nayeon’s ear but her eyes on Jeongyeon, whose gaze had been glued to her cup the moment that Nayeon had mentioned the first time they met. “We’re trying to build bridges tonight, not burn them.”  
  
It took a moment for the words to reach her, but Nayeon eventually nodded. “Right.” She looked back to Jeongyeon, who looked too small for her own go-to leather jacket. “You should leave,” she said, her voice much more fragile than she wanted it to sound, but she knew that the hurt was there. She knew that Jeongyeon heard it by the way that her feet shuffled.  
  
Nayeon glanced up toward the sky for a moment before turning and heading back toward the house. It was hard to believe that this had been the same sky she and Jeongyeon had shared not even a full year beforehand.  
  
Eyes wet, it was hard to believe that she had been such an idiot.  
  


* * *

  
It remained awkward for a while. Sana and Momo had told her countless times to reach out and talk to Nayeon, but Jeongyeon didn’t understand why she should try. She had clearly crossed some line. It was as simple as that, and she wasn’t in the business of appealing to people who clearly wanted nothing to do with her. Maybe she deserved it.  
  
The classes they had together became difficult. She was lucky enough to convince her teachers that she needed to change seats to see better, but sometimes she could feel the weight of Nayeon’s gaze boring a hole into her from behind, and her mind would warp back to hurt eyes with blurred edges.  
  
She had gone back to sitting alone at lunch, a test of willpower in resisting any and all urges to look over toward their table. On a rare occasion where she lost, she’d often find Sana and Momo’s eyes waiting for her. Nayeon’s had greeted her one time, but they quickly turned away. And, on occasion, it’d be Jihyo’s, whose sudden presence at the table after that party felt like a fitting replacement in Jeongyeon’s mind.  
  
And it had all been vaguely working to suppress the sting she often felt, up until their math teacher decided that pairs were required for a certain “creativity-forward” project, and Jeongyeon found herself forcibly flung back into Nayeon’s orbit.  
  
“Hey, Yoo,” Nayeon had greeted softly, her eyes barely rising from the project instructions in between them on the desk.  
  
Jeongyeon breathed through her nose, exhaling a silent sigh. “So… math?”  
  
Nayeon nodded. “Math.”  
  
Getting “creative” in math mainly just meant making a nice slideshow presentation on a hypothetical issue that they had been tasked with. It was a one-week project, and the problem itself had been solvable enough, but the need to represent it in a way that wasn’t drab was the issue.  
  
“I have a program on my computer for this sort of thing,” Nayeon mentioned after they inevitably tore through the problem solving phase. They didn’t really say much, mostly just sticking to the necessary questions or answers between them regarding their project. Any topic that existed beyond the scope of equations seemed out of the question. Or, at the very least, Jeongyeon was avoiding it.  
  
Jeongyeon shifted awkwardly in your seat. “Cool… Are you offering to do it, or—”  
  
“You’re not making me work on it by myself.” Nayeon’s scoff was soft, unfamiliar in its weak delivery. “You can just come over and we’ll finish it in one night.”  
  
It was hard not to stiffen at the abrupt memory of Nayeon’s anger. She had only been in the house one time, and it wasn’t a positive association to have.  
  
“Is that okay?” Nayeon asked after Jeongyeon had remained silent.  
  
“Yeah, sure.” Jeongyeon could handle it. Grades mattered, and she wasn’t going to let one argument with one quasi-friend get in the way of her future.  
  
When the weekend came, Jeongyeon was relieved that the sun was still present, perhaps only an hour away from its descent into the horizon. The last thing she needed was the vivid déjà vu of walking past the gates and to the front door beneath the night sky. If she could erase that whole night altogether, she would.  
  
“It’s Jeongyeon,” she had said into the small intercom at the gate.  
  
It was Nayeon’s voice on the opposite end. “Alright, I’ll be down in a minute.” And then it disappeared, replaced by a buzzing sound and a loud click that signaled the opening of the gate.  
  
Now that she could see it in better light, Jeongyeon could admit that the house was easy on the eyes, even if it was a bit grandiose. There was definitely no need for three floors, but she figured that today was not the day to make a snarky remark about it. It was pretty, at least.  
  
Nayeon wasn’t so hard on the eyes either when the front door opened. “We’re just going to work in my room, if that’s okay?” Maybe Jeongyeon just missed her, not that she had any good reason to. “My dad is using the office.”  
  
“I don’t mind.” She shrugged, following Nayeon up a set of stairs in the main hall after they removed their shoes. It was strange how the second floor was just one long corridor of doors, and she didn’t know how anyone could possibly memorize their room as Nayeon effortlessly led them to a fourth door on the left side.  
  
It had a youthful level of chic to it, if Jeongyeon pretended that she cared enough about interior design. Nayeon’s walls looked as though they were made of dark purple wood, with white and black and purple accents filling the rest of the space. A white bed with muted purple pillows on a black bedframe, a white multi-pane French door out onto a small balcony, a white laptop sitting atop a modern black desk, posters of girl groups that did not exactly match the color scheme of the room, and other things that Jeongyeon’s eyes weren’t quick enough to scan through by the time Nayeon cleared her throat.  
  
“You can sit, I’ll just grab my laptop.”  
  
Jeongyeon hummed, taking a seat on the edge of Nayeon’s bed. A part of her wanted to convince herself that she had nothing to feel so tense over – it was just homework. But she knew; was all too aware of how often she replayed that night, wondering in every stolen glance with Nayeon whether she had the same problem. Whether there was something on the tip of her tongue, too.  
  
Nayeon sat down beside her, and Jeongyeon was relieved that Nayeon seemed to be getting straight to business. No small talk. The program was opened, and they immediately began planning their themes and creative ways that they could present the hypothetical to the class – making up fake names and locations, using ridiculous objects to represent parts of the equations, and sliding in convoluted metaphors to add some essence of humor. On occasion, someone would chuckle, but it would fizzle out quickly like a snuffed flame that wasn’t meant to be lit.  
  
It only took about three hours in total to polish everything to completion to a point where they felt comfortable with both the accuracy and the way that they planned to approach the presentation. _Not too bad_ , Jeongyeon thought, slipping her jacket back on as Nayeon closed the lid of her laptop. It could’ve gone a lot worse. One could even argue that it had been borderline business casual, and she was grateful that she had already told Nayeon in advance that she ate an early dinner (she didn’t). No need to stay longer than necessary.  
  
She tried to get up, almost fully turned on her heel before Nayeon suddenly pulled at the end of her sleeve. Something caught in her throat, hesitating before she looked down at Nayeon from over her shoulder. She was sitting there, eyes betraying nothing.  
  
Jeongyeon sat down again. “Did we forget a part?” She knew that wasn’t it. Hoped that Nayeon would save her the embarrassment of this conversation that she could feel coming. One that she wasn’t ready for, one she didn’t deserve.  
  
“Let’s talk, Yoo.” There it was, in a quiet voice unbecoming of an energetic girl like Nayeon.  
  
Jeongyeon desperately fought the urge to disengage, to escape. “Right.”  
  
A silence followed, and it was clear that this had been an impulsive decision by Nayeon, whose lips fumbled about without sound, unable to find the words she was hoping to say. It was honestly taking a lot longer than Jeongyeon would’ve expected, but she waited. She owed Nayeon this, she figured.  
  
“Did you really not think of us as friends?” Nayeon’s eyes caught Jeongyeon’s gaze, not allowing her to hide away.  
  
“N-No, I—” Jeongyeon took a moment to breathe, grateful that Nayeon didn’t jump on that. “I didn’t mean it. I was just,” she wished Nayeon’s eyes would stop glistening, “hurt. I was hurt because you didn’t tell me until after.”  
  
Nayeon nodded, her gaze finally freeing Jeongyeon as she turned to look at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you earlier. We just never… talked like that, I guess.” She fiddled with her thumbs. “And then it ended up working out, and I was just so excited, so I did tell you. But I guess I was so confused by you not being happier for me that I didn’t really take into account how it probably felt to find out that Sana and Momo already knew about Jihyo.”  
  
“You’re not the one who did anything wrong.” Jeongyeon bit the inside of her cheek. “You were right about how all we had between us were insults – most of them from me, I think.” They managed to let out a mutual amused huff. “I don’t think I should’ve expected you to tell me that sort of thing when I’ve never,” she rubbed a metal button on her jacket, “tried to get to know you better or let you in on my life, either. All we did was bicker.”  
  
Mercy came in the form of a small smile from Nayeon. “I miss it sometimes.”  
  
“Yeah?” Jeongyeon allowed herself a tiny smile too. “Our fighting?”  
  
“Maybe not you constantly mentioning the money, but,” Nayeon rolled her eyes, “I always thought the teasing was kind of refreshing. Well, you know,” her voice betrayed a sudden sadness that made Jeongyeon’s jaw set, “because I had been assuming the whole time that we were friends.”  
  
“We were, I think.” Jeongyeon gulped, reaching for Nayeon’s hand in her lap. “I really am sorry. And because I wasn’t there when you asked me to be, and because I probably made an awful impression on Jihyo. I’m sorry.”  
  
Pink suited Nayeon’s cheeks, Jeongyeon noted. “Me too. I didn’t mean to shove you or yell at you. I was hurt too.” Her grasp on Jeongyeon’s hand tightened slightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”  
  
“Maybe we’re both dumb.” Jeongyeon smiled.  
  
Nayeon laughed. “Maybe we are.”  
  
The air felt still for the remaining minute – an arguable hour in Jeongyeon’s mind – as they kept their hands in place, silent as they simply looked at one another. There was something strange about how the world seemed to only be in focus around the shape of Im Nayeon, everything else blurring behind. Jeongyeon didn’t know what it was, or why the room suddenly felt suffocating, but she wondered if Nayeon could feel it too – this palpable _something_.  
  
“Can I tell you a secret?” Maybe Nayeon did.  
  
Jeongyeon’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”  
  
Maybe Nayeon didn’t. “I’m adopted.”  
  
Jeongyeon blinked. And then she blinked again, feeling the strange atmosphere deflating like a snipped balloon. “What?”  
  
“Do you remember when I told you that Cosette would’ve meant a lot to me?” Nayeon’s chuckle was soft, embarrassed. “It’s a bit of a stretch, but it would’ve because she was also a child who was juggled between homes.”  
  
“You’re adopted?” Jeongyeon needed to do a double take. This was definitely not the trajectory she had predicted – not that she had really predicted one at all, but this was incredibly abrupt, and she could only guess that Nayeon wanted to work on the whole _“getting to know each other better”_ thing.  
  
“Obviously, I’m still privileged enough to have parents now who are,” she rolled her eyes, “very clearly rich but I know what it’s like to grow up with nothing. The whole reason I had such a bad opinion of public school was because I got bullied when I was very little, and then when I got adopted, I was sent to a private school where I had a fresh start. Not that I didn’t have a fresh start here, too, but I guess I was just really scared.”  
  
“Was that what you meant by stakes?” Their hands were still together.  
  
Nayeon snorted, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I said that. I think I was just making something up because I felt attacked by this,” she smirked, “random student.”  
  
Jeongyeon shifted on the edge of the bed, got more comfortable. “Is this the part where I say something about myself?”  
  
“Please. Let’s at least pretend we’re friends.”  
  
“Sure.” Jeongyeon chuckled, her shoulders relaxing. “Um, I played saxophone in middle school.”  
  
Nayeon nudged her with her free hand, a loud laugh popping out of her. “That’s not nearly as personal!”  
  
“I wasn’t informed of any _rules_ , Nabongs. Plus, you can’t prove that playing saxophone wasn’t extremely important and super personal to me.”  
  
Nayeon shook her head lightheartedly, letting it pass. “Did you actually play saxophone?”  
  
“Yes. Never ask me to play one.” Jeongyeon smirked. “I’ll just lie and say I forgot how to play.”  
  
They went back and forth for a little while, sharing big and small things: how Nayeon would feel embarrassed when getting caught eating the tail end of a stick of butter, how Jeongyeon’s father walked out on her and her family, how Nayeon transferred schools because her old academy cut the performing arts department, and even how Jeongyeon and her sisters were going to be really busy during the upcoming summer with volunteer work and road trips.  
  
Jeongyeon couldn’t remember the last time she and someone had just talked aimlessly and personally. She wasn’t even sure if she had ever done it before to begin with. She never thought of herself as the type, but maybe Nayeon’s hand still holding hers for two extra hours was enough to change her tune. She liked it – liked Nayeon too, maybe.  
  
“Since we’re friends now,” Jeongyeon smirked as she started stepping out of the doorway, “does that mean I can’t make fun of the fact that I definitely saw three pairs of AirPods in your room?”  
  
A pillow struck her almost instantly, accompanied by an exaggerated groan. “You’re so annoying, Yoo!”  
  
The fluttering feeling in her chest was unfamiliar, a tad dangerous, but it was nice. Even if something may have chipped in the process. Even if getting to keep this meant having to accept an unspoken truth.  
  
Jeongyeon could handle it.  
  


* * *

  
Grizabella hadn’t been a role that Nayeon was dying to play, and Jeongyeon’s constant joke that Nayeon was _“The Hag’s Meow”_ whenever they crossed paths during dress rehearsals and performances was definitely not helping her feel more attached to the role. Nonetheless, the shows went well, and it was amazing to be able to be on the stage in a main role every night. It helped that the only song she actually liked just so happened to be her own.  
  
And so it was with intense gratitude that she offered to have the wrap party at her house. She had grown much more accustomed to hosting – a skill very much encouraged by her peers in the student council – and she could see herself hosting more during her third-year if she got a good office position.  
  
The best part about wrap parties – not that she’d ever admit it – was that Jeongyeon would attend. Apparently wrap parties were the only ones Jeongyeon decided were worth attending, aside from the fluke that had been Nayeon’s first attempt at hosting one. Something about it being a _“well-deserved reward for hard work”_ or whatever excuse she had made up instead of just saying she was vaguely anti-social.  
  
“Did I tell you about your performance?” Jeongyeon’s words were a little slurred as she flapped her arms across the sheets, imitating wings. Or maybe Nayeon was already drunk. Maybe it was both.  
  
“No.” Nayeon smiled, leaning on her desk. “Tell me.”  
  
“For a banshee, you sing exceptionally well.”  
  
Nayeon rolled her eyes, taking another swig of her beer. “I’ll accept the devil’s compliment.”  
  
The party was in full swing. It wasn’t nearly as hectic as when it was an open invite to their grade, but the cast and crew made up such a large crowd that it barely felt any different. Voices and faces still ultimately blurred together. She had wanted to step away for a bit, opting to take her and Jeongyeon up to her room with a few drinks since neither of them were up for the commotion, and no one else from her closer friend group was around to talk to.  
  
Things had been going well between them, much to Sana and Momo’s relief. Although they still made fun of each other often, there was a better understanding than last time that they were, in fact, friends and that there was no reason to doubt otherwise. And it’d been nice. They had gotten to spend extra time together during the course of the rehearsals and show, too, often eating dinner together backstage or Jeongyeon coming over to help Nayeon with her lines.  
  
There was a different glow to Jeongyeon ever since they had their talk, like she was a happier entity than the cynical enigma she had come to know. She had stopped making as many money jokes too – though Nayeon assured her that the occasional one was still completely fine and that she wouldn’t want Jeongyeon to be _totally_ out of character – and focused more on ridiculous comparisons. Jeongyeon had recently called her _“the wipe with which Satan cleans his shitty ass with”_ when Nayeon teased her once by tweeting one of Jeongyeon’s baby photos. Nayeon really enjoyed the banter. Sometimes she’d be lying in bed at night when she’d remember something they jokingly bickered over, and it made her laugh mere moments before sleep hit her.  
  
Her phone buzzed and she looked down to see Jihyo’s name pop up. _How is everything,_ the text said.  
  
_Good_ , Nayeon replied. She blinked at her phone, feeling her brain catch up slowly before adding, _Just talking to Jeong while praying no one breaks anything.  
  
_The passage of time didn’t feel real as she got an almost instant response. _Good to hear! Stay safe and don’t drink too much. (;  
  
_Knowing that she already drank too much, Nayeon giggled. Jihyo should’ve known better after five months of dating, or maybe that’s why she had sent a winky face, because maybe she did know. Nayeon couldn’t be sure – the room felt too warm and it was hard to focus on the logistics of a text. She didn’t understand why Jeongyeon was still wearing her leather jacket. It was a really nice jacket, sure, and maybe it made her look really good, okay, but there was no need for it when they were indoors, and the temperature was too high for it.  
  
“What are you giggling at?” Jeongyeon mumbled loudly.  
  
Nayeon pocketed her phone. “Jihyo said I shouldn’t drink too much.”  
  
They both snorted and said, “Too late!”  
  
“Take that damned jacket off, Yoo.” Nayeon said, standing up hesitantly from the chair and walking over to the edge of the bed. “Give it to me, I’ll put it on the” – she hiccupped – “door.”  
  
“No.” Jeongyeon all but pouted, hugging herself and turning on her side. “I like the jacket.”  
  
“I’m not going to steal it!”  
  
“The rich always steal from the poor!”  
  
Nayeon whined, “I’m trying to be nice.” She tried to lean forward and tug at the sleeve by force, but she tumbled forward, accidentally tripping over the edge. The world seemed slow in catching up to her, a solid moment passing before she even realized she had fallen atop Jeongyeon, and she hoisted herself up by the elbows. Blinking, she looked down at the wide eyes of a girl who so often wore black but looked so good with the sudden pink hue on her cheek.  
  
She couldn’t be sure if she really noticed Jeongyeon’s eyes fall to her lips or if she just imagined it in her inebriated state. “I’m sorry,” she said, not sure why it came out in a whisper.  
  
“It’s okay.” Jeongyeon’s voice also seemed small, as though the proximity couldn’t handle anything louder than a breath.  
  
“You should’ve just given me the jacket.”  
  
“Fuck off,” Jeongyeon said, breaking into a quiet giggle that quickly got Nayeon giggling as well. Or maybe she just felt the need to laugh off the extremely loud thumping in her chest.  
  
Jeongyeon was really pretty, now that she was thinking about it and seeing her up close. Her style often relied on comfort and street clothes, hair occasionally tied up, but she made it look unfairly good. Good enough that Nayeon may have snuck glances here and there whenever Jeongyeon was working on set, glistening after hauling furniture and props back and forth with a smile. She never thought anything of it – all in the name of keeping an eye on her friend who loved to get on her nerve – but suddenly she was hyperaware of the slight sheen on Jeongyeon’s neck beneath her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she somehow liked seeing Jeongyeon like this.  
  
The only light in the room was her desk lamp, but every feature felt clear in the dim atmosphere, the air stilling as Jeongyeon’s lips seemed to swirl in Nayeon’s vision. _Are they soft?_  
  
“You’re staring, Nayeon.”  
  
Nayeon blinked again, realizing the uncharacteristically shy look on Jeongyeon’s face. Felt the warmth of her breath against her skin once Nayeon realized she had lowered herself without realizing. Something twisted in her stomach, her eyelids fluttering back down to Jeongyeon’s lips. She could feel it, a palpable threshold between them that her chest was urging her to cross, a _something_ that she could see reflected in Jeongyeon’s half-lidded eyes.  
  
She suddenly felt a buzz in her pocket and swallowed as clarity washed over her, lifting herself off right away. “S-Sorry,” she said quickly, stumbling backwards when she got back onto her feet. “I-I’m—”  
  
“Drunk,” Jeongyeon finished for her, clearing her throat and sitting up on the bed.  
  
Nayeon furrowed her brow. “Jeongyeon,” her tongue felt heavy, “I don’t… I don’t know what that was but I—”  
  
Jeongyeon shook her head. “It would’ve been a mistake, is what it was.”  
  
That didn’t feel fair or right, though Nayeon couldn’t really explain why. Maybe it was the way that Jeongyeon’s voice cracked, like _she_ would’ve been the mistake. The notion left a sick taste in Nayeon’s mouth, an anxious staccato drumming within her ribcage. _No, there was something there,_ she almost wanted to say, opting to close her mouth and pull her phone out of her pocket as she sat back down in her desk chair.  
  
She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in when she saw Jihyo’s contact photo in her messages, wishing her a good night because she was going to sleep. Jihyo was fun and hardworking and thoughtful, and Nayeon felt the briefest sense of relief that nothing had fully happened. Jihyo deserved better than that. She glanced at Jeongyeon, who was beginning to stand up, expression riddled with something unfamiliar. Jeongyeon deserved better too.  
  
“You don’t have to leave,” she said quietly, knowing she didn’t want to face the party alone, especially not after this. She didn’t want Jeongyeon to leave.  
  
Jeongyeon sighed. “I think it’s in our best interest if I do.”  
  
Nayeon frowned. “I won’t do anything, I—”  
  
“That’s not it.” Jeongyeon’s voice was quiet as she walked toward the door. “I might do something, and we both know that wouldn’t be okay.”  
  
The fact that she wanted Jeongyeon to prove it, to prove right then that she’d do something if she simply stayed, was enough for Nayeon to swallow down the lump in her throat. It was true. It wouldn’t be okay.  
  
“Right.” She nodded, turning away in her chair as Jeongyeon left the room without a goodbye.  
  


* * *

  
Jeongyeon had been grateful for the busy summer that she got to have with her siblings. Volunteering at animal shelters had been a tradition of theirs that she always enjoyed, but this year it served as a welcome distraction from the tornado in her head that was Im Nayeon.  
  
They hadn’t really spoken all summer. They were never really the type of people to text each other often anyway, but the silence felt a lot more weighted, as though both were too afraid to be the first to attempt normalcy. Jeongyeon couldn’t even be sure what normalcy meant with Nayeon. When third-year started, they still sat at the same table, but it was clear that Nayeon and Jeongyeon couldn’t exchange more than five words before awkwardly fading into silence. Sana and Momo weren’t fans of it.  
  
There had always been tension between them, but she had always thought that it was merely born out of the banter that they had started right out of the gate upon meeting for the first time. Why couldn’t the beat in her chest simply be due to the excitement she had over riling Nayeon up over a clever jab, instead of a signal of something much more serious, much deeper and, frankly, unwelcome? Why couldn’t Jeongyeon stop thinking about wanting to kiss her?  
  
Nayeon was beautiful, possibly. Nayeon was so talented that it sometimes rendered Jeongyeon motionless, maybe. Nayeon was refreshing and fun to talk to, arguably. Other friends could be beautiful and talented and fun, so why did it have to be her? Were they doomed from the start?  
  
“You’re ruminating again.”  
  
Jeongyeon blinked, her gaze falling on the second-year she had befriended in her chemistry class. “I don’t ‘ruminate,’ whatever that means.”  
  
Dahyun raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “We’ve been lab partners for only two weeks of the year and you’ve ruminated at least five times since we started putting the goggles on.”  
  
“We only started wearing these last week!”  
  
“Exactly my point.” Dahyun sighed, readjusting her goggles over her spectacles. “You’ve done this almost every single day. You’re pensive as hell, dude.”  
  
Jeongyeon couldn’t help but chuckle. Dahyun had been involved in some accelerated courses that landed her in a third-year science lab, and Jeongyeon wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. It didn’t take long to like the underclassman. She was funny and nice and a bit of a nervous wreck on occasion, and maybe it helped that Jeongyeon just so happened to learn about some pining from the past year, which may or may not have involved Minatozaki Sana.  
  
“Penny-sive for your thoughts?” Dahyun asked, smirking as though she just made the smuggest pun.  
  
Jeongyeon pretended to choke. “Holy shit, no.”  
  
“Hey! It wasn’t that bad.”  
  
“It absolutely was.” Jeongyeon pinched her nose. “I’d rather choke on the chemical fumes.”  
  
Dahyun deadpanned, shaking her head before adding the finishing touches to their lab report. “Anyway, are you going to the mixer?”  
  
“Mixer?”  
  
“Student council is hosting one since it’s the beginning of the year or something. I forgot the real reason; I just think they’re trying to keep morale up. But it’s for all grades. It’s kind of the point.”  
  
Jeongyeon rolled her eyes. Despite being the current vice president, Nayeon never liked talking about student council work at lunch, and Jeongyeon always found herself three steps behind on all student events. She needed to start asking Sana and Momo to keep her actively in the loop.  
  
“Are you going to go?” Dahyun asked, eyes expectant.  
  
Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow. “Unsure. Why? Is that even your scene?”  
  
“Well, no,” she mumbled, looking away when Jeongyeon started smirking at her. “Just curious. Chaeng and I will probably just see a movie or something instead.”  
  
“You just want to know if I’m going so that there’ll be moral support if you see Minatozaki.” Jeongyeon snickered at the sight of Dahyun’s reddening cheeks.  
  
Dahyun was bad at scoffing. “No!” She lifted her chin as she removed her goggles. “I just so happen to care a lot about student mixers and would like to know if you’re attending!”   
  
“Okay.” Jeongyeon cracked a smile. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe? I don’t really go to parties that often.”  
  
“Does it count as a party? I think it’s supervised by faculty, and it’s here at the school.”  
  
“Anything social that involves more than three other people is a party to me.”  
  
Dahyun chuckled. “Agreed. I’ve heard that Im Nayeon’s parties can have over one hundred people inside of her place. Can you believe that?”  
  
It was hard to forget. “Yeah, her house is huge.” Two girls in one room felt like more than enough.  
  
“She’s so popular. I wonder what kind of person she must be if she can balance student council and homework and social things like that.”  
  
“She’s annoying,” Jeongyeon said with a laugh.  
  
Dahyun looked surprised. “Annoying?”  
  
“Absolutely.” She smirked, offering Dahyun no further explanation.  
  
Another thing that Jeongyeon found annoying was the greeting table at the very front of the mixer when Friday rolled around and Momo had essentially dragged her into going.  
  
“What kind of dystopia are we living in?” she mumbled in horror, watching as a student council member wrapped a blue glowstick armband around her wrist.  
  
Momo giggled beside her, also receiving one. “I kind of like it.”  
  
“We’re getting _sorted_ , Momo.” Blue supposedly designated third-years, with red and green designating second-years and first-years respectively. “Think of the implications!”  
  
“And what would those be?”  
  
“Being forced to wear glowsticks that aren’t even your favorite color!”  
  
Momo laughed harder at that, the two of them making their way into the gymnasium. The lighting was dim, purple in hue and reminding Jeongyeon of what she had always thought the lighting inside of a city club looked like – with the bonus additions of many tables and large bleachers.  
  
Jeongyeon checked her phone when she felt a buzz, quickly seeing a reply that Dahyun sent her, saying that she wasn’t going to be able to make it. Jeongyeon smirked. _Scaredy-cat._  
  
It wasn’t that Jeongyeon really wanted to go to the mixer herself. She only came because Momo wanted her to meet her new girlfriend, an underclassman by the name of Myoui Mina who Momo had started talking to during some dance class over the summer. Otherwise, maybe she would’ve asked Dahyun if she could’ve sat in on whatever movie she and Chaeyoung were watching.  
  
Momo practically lit up when they walked over to Sana and Mina by the beverages, Momo’s hand immediately finding Mina’s as their blue and red glowsticks bumped against each other.  
  
“Jeongyeon, this is Mina. Mina, this is Jeongyeon.”  
  
“Nice to meet you.” Mina bowed slightly, a soft smile on her face as she squeezed Momo’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  
  
Jeongyeon snickered, shooting Momo a look. “Good things, I hope. It’s nice to meet you too.”  
  
Momo pouted. “I only ever say good things about you.”  
  
“Can’t say the same, bud.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Sana giggled. “Come on, Momoring. You know Jeong loves you the most.”  
  
“You and I both know that’s not true,” Momo mumbled.  
  
Jeongyeon felt as though it wasn’t hard to guess what Momo was implying. She swallowed thickly, suddenly paranoid about whether or not Sana and Momo knew about what had happened at the wrap party last year. It’s not that they would have judged her, but the possibility of them simply _knowing_ worried her. What would Nayeon have told them? Could Jeongyeon have been painted as a victim, as a heartbreaker, as stupid? _Nayeon wouldn’t do that._ She took a deep breath, her eyes searching the crowd around them for one familiar face. Nothing.  
  
“Do any of you want to dance?” asked Sana.  
  
Jeongyeon shook her head just as Momo began to nod, and she was surprised to see Mina wave a hand and shake her head as well.  
  
“Will you two be okay?” Momo’s brow furrowed, concern on her face as she kissed the side of Mina’s head.  
  
That seemed to make Mina very bashful. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
“I’ll hang with her,” Jeongyeon offered, smiling when Momo grinned and left with Sana to go dance. It was as good of a time as any for her to get a drink, so she quickly perused some of the available juice flavors before settling on cranberry. Beside her, Mina seemed content enough with water, grabbing herself a bottle just before Jeongyeon led them over to an empty table near the dancing area. It was just a cleared-out spot in the gymnasium, but multiple students were already occupying it with swaying hips and raised arms.  
  
“I’m surprised that you didn’t want to dance.” Jeongyeon took a sip of her cranberry juice. “Momo told me that you two met at a dance studio over the summer.”  
  
Mina nodded. “We did. But I went there for ballet.” She looked toward the dance floor. “I’m not really one for parties anyway.”  
  
“Parties kind of suck, right?”  
  
“I just think I’d rather sleep,” Mina said, chuckling. “I only came since Momo wanted me to meet you and Nayeon.”  
  
“Oh?” Jeongyeon’s eyebrows rose. “You hadn’t met Nayeon yet?”  
  
Mina shook her head, taking a sip of her water. “Momo was feeling hesitant since Nayeon’s apparently been keeping herself super busy since the breakup and the presidential race.”  
  
A pause. “Breakup?” She hated feeling even the slightest pang of relief. _  
_  
“Yeah.” Mina sighed. “I can’t imagine doing a presidential race either. That’s a lot of pressure.”  
  
Jeongyeon nodded, starting to tune out as she watched Sana and Momo dance. It couldn’t be helped that Sana and Momo probably knew about it when Jeongyeon and Nayeon were being awkward ever since the school year started. Nayeon didn’t have anyone else to confide in. Maybe she should have texted her over the summer, just once. But Nayeon didn’t text her either. An anxious bubble rested in her stomach.  
  
She looked over to Mina, whose gaze had also ended up toward the other girls, her lips curved upward the slightest bit.  
  
“Do you think that friendships are worth risking?” She wasn’t sure what compelled her to ask it. Maybe it was the security in a stranger, in someone she’d never met who likely knew nothing about her, about Nayeon, about _them_. Maybe it was the way Mina’s gaze softened at the sight of someone she knew was hers.  
  
Mina’s eyes found hers in the dim purple haze, and Jeongyeon bounced her knee when she felt as though Mina was searching for something in her eyes. “For what? A relationship?”  
  
“Y-Yeah. What do you think?”  
  
“I may not be the best judge.” Her smile was apologetic. “I think Momo and I were too interested before there could be a chance at an innocent friendship.” She giggled, folding her hands in front of her. “Not that I mind. But,” her thumb brushed over the wrist of her opposite hand, bumping that red glow, “I think they could be.”  
  
“What makes you say that?”  
  
“I guess you can’t know for sure until it’s too late.” Mina paused, and Jeongyeon appreciated that she seemed very intent on thinking about it carefully. “But what if it’s the best thing that could ever happen to them? What if the other person is for forever?”  
  
Jeongyeon chewed at the corner of her lip. “Solid argument.”  
  
“Why do you ask?” Mina frowned. “Were Jihyo and Nayeon good friends before dating?”  
  
“Not that I’m aware of.” She shrugged, watching as Sana and Momo made their way towards them. “I’m going to use the bathroom.” Mina gave her a nod, and Jeongyeon quickly got up and made her way toward one of the exits of the gymnasium.  
  
Jeongyeon didn’t really need to use the bathroom – what she needed was some fresh air. She felt a sense of relief the moment that she entered the hallway, a stark difference compared to how packed the gym was. The hall was borderline empty, the occasional pair of students running up and down to visit the bathroom or to return to the mixer, and she made her way toward one of the nearby exits.  
  
She almost jumped in shock when she opened the door to the vestibule of an exit and noticed a body against the wall only after she had made it halfway to the next door.  
  
“Do I look that bad?” Nayeon smirked half-heartedly, watching Jeongyeon’s shoulders relax.  
  
“Same as usual, so,” she slipped her hands into her pockets once she composed herself, “yeah.”  
  
Nayeon snorted, a soft sound that made Jeongyeon miss the girl’s usual loud laughter. She was looking down at her phone, gaze focused as she seemed to scroll through something on her screen.  
  
“Are you checking social media?” Jeongyeon asked. The vestibule was cooler than the hallway, at least.  
  
“No, just trying to go over some student council stuff in my notes.”  
  
“You’ve been really busy with that stuff, huh?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Jeongyeon took a deep breath through her nose. “Are you okay?”  
  
That caught Nayeon’s attention. “What?”  
  
“Are you okay, Nabongs?” Her voice was gentler this time. She knew better than to approach this like she had last year.  
  
Nayeon’s brow scrunched together. “A little stressed about student council. Why?”  
  
“I heard about you and Jihyo.”  
  
There was a long pause where Nayeon simply stared back. It was the most they had exchanged in these first few weeks of school, and Jeongyeon was sure that Nayeon hadn’t expected this to be their first real conversation. She ignored the thought that this had been the first time they were alone together since Nayeon’s bedroom.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Nayeon said, overcoming the silence as she pocketed her phone. “We’ve been through this before, I know.”  
  
Jeongyeon shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I’m just… checking in.”  
  
Nayeon chuckled. “I appreciate it. But it’s been a while already, I’m fine.”  
  
“When did it happen?”  
  
Nayeon suddenly looked small, her face reddening just a bit beneath the fluorescent light of the small room. Her eyes escaped, finding themselves on the door back into the hallway as her hands fiddled with the hem of her shirt.  
  
Jeongyeon cracked a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “During the summer? I seriously won’t be upset just because—”  
  
“The day after the wrap party.”  
  
She froze. Remembered the way that Nayeon felt above her. Could feel her heart thump to the rhythm of the memory.  
  
Nayeon bit her lip. “I was afraid to tell you. Plus, I didn’t want you to blame yourself.”  
  
“How is it not my fault?”  
  
“It’s obviously mine, Yoo.” Nayeon scoffed. “What was I supposed to do? Stay with Jihyo after that almost happened? That wouldn’t be fair to her.”  
  
“I could’ve stopped it.” Jeongyeon frowned. “We were really drunk, and nothing happened. It wasn’t anything. You could’ve stayed with—”  
  
“It wasn’t anything?”  
  
Jeongyeon blinked. “Huh?”  
  
“You’re unbelievable.” Nayeon pinched the bridge of her nose. “And here I thought you were avoiding me because of the same reason I was afraid of telling you.”  
  
“What reason is that?” Her palms felt sweaty suddenly, and she removed her hands from her pockets, rubbing the sides of her jeans.  
  
“Come on!” Nayeon groaned. “You know! I know you know! I broke up with Jihyo because I had feelings for someone else, and I was afraid to tell you that we were over – because the second I’d tell you, it’d become real.”  
  
That memory may have been tucked away, but it was real. The way that Jeongyeon always found herself in Nayeon’s orbit – gravitating toward her without wanting to admit it – was real. Her dreams where she and Nayeon kissed beneath the stars felt real enough. Her heart’s thundering beat trapped in her ribcage seemed real, made this feel real and not like a daydream. Her feelings were real, despite how much she wished them away. This sudden space between them, free of a divider in the shape of a girlfriend, was real and much too wide. Whatever they have was real, always had been.  
  
“Wasn’t it already?” She responded quietly, not wanting to look Nayeon in the eyes. This was uncharted territory for her on all accounts, especially in the face of Nayeon. But she found herself taking a step closer, her brain yelling at her to not mess this up. Telling her that these were signals, and that she should take them.  
  
A silence fell between them, the bass of the music in the gymnasium resonating through the school’s walls and finding its way into Jeongyeon’s bones. Felt the way it urged her, almost.  
  
“Did you ever get your first kiss?” Nayeon’s voice was low, and it was unfair how it prickled at Jeongyeon’s ears.  
  
She shook her head. “I haven’t.” Then she made eye contact, unable to look away when she saw the unfamiliar look in Nayeon’s gaze. She looked so good up close.  
  
“Let me steal yours like you stole mine.”  
  
Blood rushed to her ears at the bold approach. “That’s not real, Nabongs.” Jeongyeon laughed, despite herself. “You and I both know Jihyo gets that credit. So, that’s not a fair trade.”  
  
“Then,” Nayeon’s arms found their way around Jeongyeon’s neck with zero resistance, “have the rest of mine.”  
  
“Oh,” was all Jeongyeon could manage to say, gulping at the proximity. She cleared her throat, desperate for a way to cope. “Is this a charitable donation by the prestigious Im family?”  
  
Nayeon’s laugh was light and stunning. “If you want to waste time talking, be my guest.”  
  
“But we didn’t talk all summer.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Jeongyeon. I knew you were busy, but I still should’ve talked to you.”  
  
“Me too.” Jeongyeon’s voice cracked, caught off-guard by the use of her name. “But it’s okay. We have now.”  
  
Nayeon smiled softly. “I’m waiting for you to communicate.”  
  
“So you want _me_ to do it?”  
  
“That’d be correct.” Her breath tickled Jeongyeon’s lips.  
  
She hummed. “I’ve never done this.”  
  
“You can change that right now.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Like, right now.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Nayeon frowned. “Yoo, are you going to fucking kiss me or—”  
  
It was an earnest attempt, perhaps a little too hard as Jeongyeon could feel Nayeon’s head bump against the wall. She tilted her head slightly, adjusting the pressure of her lips and feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she felt Nayeon’s jaw move. It was foreign, good, and it made her feel something that the summer had washed away. Overwhelmed, she pulled back.  
  
“Your lips taste like cranberry juice. Gross.” Nayeon’s smile was so wide. Jeongyeon loved it.  
  
She grinned, her eyes searching for the stars in Nayeon’s before leaning in again.  
  


* * *

  
“Nayeon…”  
  
They had their nicknames for one another that they loved, but nothing sounded more attractive to Nayeon than the sound of her name moaned against her ear by Jeongyeon. It was like a treat, almost, or so her inebriated mind told her as she curled her finger only to hear it again.  
  
She was busy kissing the underside of Jeongyeon’s jaw atop the bed of one of the multiple guest bedrooms when she heard a voice shriek.  
  
“Fuck!”  
  
Nayeon blinked as Jeongyeon yelled, “Shit!” She looked over her shoulder, her eyes going wide at the sight of newcomer Kim Dahyun slapping a hand over her face. She felt Jeongyeon tense around her finger as she continued to yell, “Get out!”  
  
“Sorry, sorry! Oh my god, I’m so--I’m so sorry!”  
  
_Poor girl_ , Nayeon thought for a drunken moment before realizing that Dahyun was attempting to reach for the doorknob. “Don’t close the door all the way!”  
  
“Oh my god,” Jeongyeon groaned, and Nayeon quickly got up to close the door most of the way without shutting it once Dahyun had retreated across the hall. “That was so embarrassing.”  
  
Nayeon laughed when she turned and saw Jeongyeon hiding her crotch with a pillow. “Absolutely mortifying.” She smirked, crawling back on top of Jeongyeon. “But at least we look good, right?”  
  
“This is the punishment I get for sleeping with the devil.”  
  
“Oh, do you want to get punished?”  
  
“Don’t.” Jeongyeon deadpanned, but Nayeon melted the expression away with a chaste kiss. “Now I have to tell her.”  
  
Nayeon barked out a laugh. “Does she not know about us?!”  
  
Jeongyeon snickered. “I’ve been telling her that you’re annoying as shit all year.”  
  
“Hey! You’re the annoying one,” she whined.  
  
“Yeah.” Jeongyeon shrugged, smirking. “But I’m _your_ annoying one. And you’re the only one I want to annoy, so.”  
  
Nayeon rolled her eyes with a slight crack of a smile, pressing another kiss against Jeongyeon as her hand slid beneath the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever feel like you've got good momentum and then you feel like you suddenly lose it all at once? That was me with this fic LOL. There's a scene that I don't know if I just looked at it for WAY too long or if it's genuinely just bad, but it got me into such a panic that I just "YOLO'd" I guess. Unsure. If you have any positive comments, I'd be happy to hear 'em LOL.
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on:  
> Twitter: [@heartshooketh](https://twitter.com/heartshooketh)  
> CuriousCat: [@dubfu](https://curiouscat.me/dubfu)


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